


Evelyn, Evelyn (Why are you running away?)

by ADyingFlower



Series: Yandere!Haikyuu Fics [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood, Codependency, Dark, Depression, Dissociation, Dom/sub Undertones, Flashbacks, Forced Feminization, Forced Relationship, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Intrusive Thoughts, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Obsessive Behavior, On the Run, Panic Attacks, Possessive Behavior, Stockholm Syndrome, Strangulation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Trigger Warnings, Yandere, poor coping mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:25:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7465110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADyingFlower/pseuds/ADyingFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.”<br/>― Stephen King</p>
<p>Or;</p>
<p>Kenma shivered against the cold metal seats. His teeth couldn’t stop chattering, his heart pounding so heavily you would think the rest of the bus would hear it, and his hands shaking too badly to even read the map he spent ages looking for and even more hiding it in the loose wood panel in the floor. And not one of these was because he was cold.</p>
<p>It was something much more terrifying than that.</p>
<p>Fear.</p>
<p>Pure fear was flooding through his veins, filling his body with unnecessary adrenaline. Kenma couldn’t shake the feeling that he would find him, that he was following, always always following him. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. (Couldn’t say his name, always always afraid that it would summon him).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evelyn, Evelyn (Why are you running away?)

**Author's Note:**

> My first addition to Haikyuu and it ended up being the darkest thing I've ever written. Of course.  
> WARNING: Some elements in here are triggery as fuck. If you are unconformable with any of the tags, please proceed with caution.  
> I don't have a beta, so if you see any mistakes please point them out!  
> Also; I would like to dedicate this to my friends Jess and Alec. Jess for pushing me to do this when I otherwise would have given up and for listening when the first draft of this came into being. Alec for the late night freaking out and for the encouragement they gave me that kept me going. Thank you guys so much. I couldn't have asked for better friends.

_ “I love you as certain dark _

_ Things are to be loved, _

_ In secret, between the  _

_ Shadow and the soul.” _

_ -Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets _

 

Kenma shivered against the cold metal seats. His teeth couldn’t stop chattering, his heart pounding so heavily you would think the rest of the bus would hear it, and his hands shaking too badly to even read the map he spent ages looking for and even more hiding it in the loose wood panel in the floor. And not one of these was because he was cold. 

He was exhausted, spending all night locked in a ten by six room, zip ties sliding uncomfortable into the grooves old scars left behind. Sometimes, he could sleep in the main room, when it was a good day, where it was much warmer and calming. But it wasn’t a good night, and he spent all of the night locked up in that small room staring at the opposing wall. He couldn’t even play his games, his feet bound together too tightly to reach the PSP on the end of the bed. 

His teeth couldn’t stop chattering, his heart pounding so heavily you would think the rest of the bus would hear it, and his hands shaking too badly to even read the map he spent ages looking for and even more hiding it in the loose wood panel in the floor. And not one of these was because he was cold. 

It was something much more terrifying than that. 

Fear. 

Pure fear was flooding through his veins, filling his body with unnecessary adrenaline. Kenma couldn’t shake the feeling that _ he _ would find him, that  _ he _ was following, always always following him. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. (Couldn’t say his name, always always afraid that it would summon him).

_ “Don’t you know, kitten, that you can’t run? Run, hide, doesn’t matter. I’ll just grab you by your delightful hair and drag you back. And we don’t want that to happen, do we? I can’t promise I won’t kill you for betraying me. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you run from me.” _

Kenma shook the voice out of his head, trailing out of his ears and sliding onto his neck, the words burning into the nape of his neck, coating the perpetual hickeys and bruises lining it. Kitten. He can’t run from that name. But he can run from the man who gave him it. 

His racing heart calmed slightly, the burst of confidence coming from somewhere he didn’t even know existed anymore. Kenma  _ could _ fight back, he can shake the letters and promises out of his ears and do what he came here for. 

The almost deserted bus took a sharp turn, sending Kenma sliding into the railing next to his isolated seat in the corner behind the rest of the passengers. The coldness of it made the lingering fogginess leave his brain. This is brainwashing, he remind himself. Conditioning. Dependence. He tried not to think on how after walking several miles to the nearest bus stop, his feet blistering (not used to any strenuous activity, not since before he lived in that ten by six windowless room in an isolated cabin in the woods), he had gotten on the bus and didn’t know what to do.

It was pathetic. He had seen buses when he was walked home from school before (view always half obscured by a protective arm), so he had somewhat of an idea of how buses worked ( _ never allowed, never allowed, dead cats and long sleeves in summer and iron tasted kisses _ ). But he had no idea how much they cost. Or that they had cost at all. Shame pricked his nape, layering over the kanji and everlasting bruises. Kenma had money on him at least, ( _ to little, to little, wads of ones and coins plucked from sleeping man’s crumpled pants) _ , but it won’t be enough to last him a night. But he didn’t need that, just enough for a payphone. 

The bus skid to stop in front on an old commercial building in the nearest town, the tires squeaking against the cracked cement and sending Kenma flying, landing on the ass. The crash ignited old pains on his thighs and on his knees and in places he would rather not think about. He just sat there for a moment, trying not to cry and attempting to calm the darkening pit of anxiety in his soul, the colored bruises painting his skin almost illuminating themselves  _ (seeing himself in the main room's mirror on a good day, oxford and charcoal blue and sangria staining his skin, swirls and whirls and curls smearing into shapes of fingers and teeth and bindings _ ) before hauling himself up behind the four other passengers, not looking any of them in the eye after his anxious-ridden tornado of thoughts. 

They shuffled off single filed, either busy with their phones or lost in their headphones. He does not wish for headphones, he tells himself, he does not wish for them. 

...Maybe a little bit

-refusing to think about his old burned ones, sitting in a dumpster god knows where after a bad day-

Okay maybe he does want headphones, if only to block out the constant stream of whispers in his ears. 

He stepped off the bus, caught for a moment on what to do. He knew he needed to get to a payphone, to call someone ( _ anyone _ ) , and to get the hell out of this small town with a bus that only ran every three hours. 

His heart picked up in speed.

_ Oh god _ , he hadn’t even considered that there might not be a payphone in town. He knew payphones were still around, but that was when he lived in the city and he was  _ trapped _ , wasn’t he??

Kenma’s breathing picked up until it was beating erratically, his heart pounding against his ribcage and he was going to die he was going to be killed because he was a stupid and forgot to think about one crucial step in his plan-

“Are you okay?” 

His head snapped up to see a redheaded boy staring at him with concern. Almost instantly, his thoughts began to stop steamrolling him- backing away in guilt with hands held high- and his heart calmed down from the Nascar race track it was. 

How even..?

Kenma had only known one person in his entire life who could calm him down from an anxiety attack (his heart fluttered painfully, threatening to give out against all the strain he was giving it), and the boy calmed him down in three words.

This kid was an angel. He has to be. 

“...I’m okay…” He muttered, breaking eye contact, oddly feeling like he had seen those strange looking eyes before. 

“Anxiety, right? It’s a bitch, that’s for sure.” The redheaded boy nodded along to himself, grabbing Kenma delicately by the elbow and dragging him away from the bus stop. 

Kenma yelped, attempting to yank his arm away but failing miserably when the redhead only tightened his grip.  “What are you doing?” 

The boy looked back at him, flashing a 1000 watt smile in his direction. Kenma was pretty sure his pupils slitted against the light. “Oh, nothing bad, I promise. There’s a family restaurant this way and you look like you need a place to sit and a good meal.” 

He frowned. “I don’t have any money with me.” Well, it was somewhat the truth. Nothing wrong with white lies. He’s been practically breathing them his whole life. 

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll pay for you, just keep me company. Small towns, ugh.” He commented the last bit almost to himself when he noticed people staring. Kenma ducked his head further, oily shame crawling further around his neck. The boy once against broke through it with excited chatter. “I’m Hinata Shouyou! What’s your name?”

Kenma debated lying, but odds would work out that he would be caught in that web of deceit later, especially if Shouyou was so enthusiastic. “Kenma,” He ducked his head. “Kozume. Kozume Kenma.” 

Well, it was technically true. Legally at least. ( _ ivory silk poured around his bare feet, lace wrapped from his wrist to the curve of his thin arms, cold hands sliding against his bare back, veil covering his terrified expression as he whispered untrue vows to a man he couldn’t love nor hate)  _

He wondered if his parents were still looking for him. 

Shouyou kept up the stream of constant, aimless chatter en route to the restaurant. A couple of times he could swear he saw  _ his  _ hair several times through his peripheral, and his heart skyrocketed every time.

They eventually found the restaurant, a short, nondescript building among a series of other short, nondescript buildings. Shouyou waved down a waiter and they took a seat in the corner, Kenma’s back to the wall. 

Shouyou smiled at him brightly, his face giving no hint to what he what he would say next. “Do you know why I wanted to bring you to lunch?” 

Kenma stiffened, peering at him for any hint to what he was going to say next, but after receiving not a single crack in his smile he shook his head.

“That's because you smell like blood. And not your blood either.”

_ How did he…? _

Fear kicked into gear, his body beginning to shake with the remnants of adrenaline that had kept him awake on the bus ride, the same adrenaline that had kept him up all night in the darkness both begging for morning light to come and for it not to. His feet poised on the floor, ready to run and run and never stop  _ running _ . 

Shouyou continued to smile brightly at him before continuing. “I wasn’t going to comment on it at first, but you piqued my curiosity. You definitely aren’t a cop either, so what are you?”

~

_ Kuro’s smile, blood staining his teeth red so much red oh my god/The bump of the car against the rocky pavement/Faceless screams, insides torn up beyond repair oh look it’s broken have you tried turning it off and back on again/I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared im scared im scared im scared im scared im scared im scarred broken bones and bloody kisses/I don’t want to die I wanna go home I miss my family please just let me go home I won’t tell anyone please/ kITTeN/ It’s broken I don’t want to play/red welts and scars and bite marks/ I M S C A R E D/ “My little precious kitten”/ sTop iT/Tell me you love me say it say it say it say it say it say it/LeT's PlaY A GaME/I’m tired/ kitten kitten kitten kitten kitten kitten kitten kitTEN KITTEN KITTEN KITTEN/oh so tired/i’m scared i’m scared i’m scared/HAVE YOU TRIED TURNING IT OFF AND BACK OFF AGAIN/bye bye mister sleep tight guess you’ll never wake up again/where are you Kuro come home where are you Kuro come home WHerE ARe yOU kURo COmE hOMe/I miss you/I’m really really really really tired/The blood won’t SToP kURo wAkE uP/ _

_ I _

_ M  _

_ S _

_ C _

_ A _

_ R _

_ E _

_ D _

_ / _

Kenma’s feet pounded against the cement, his breath coming out  _ overflowing  _ in harsh pant, all thoughts of food and redheads and fake smiles forgotten except for the primal urge to  _ run _ .

His aching and blistered feet skidded across the concrete, turning sharply around a street corner and heading onto an unknown chance. He didn’t know if Shouyou was still chasing him but he couldn’t take that chance. Couldn’t stop moving, one stop to breathe too long and  _ he  _ would find him, would drag him back like  _ he  _ promised, and oh the promises they never end, vows of love and protection but were only meant to trap him, to keep him silenced and compliant but they’re all lies, LIES LIES LIES. 

Kenma slid to a stop eventually, his thoughts tumbling out of him and onto the dirt trail ( _ when did that happen? _ ). His lungs burned with the exertion, not used to this amount of exercise. The trail he had stopped in seemed to be an old walking trail in the nearby forest, overgrown with weeds that were trampled over by his frantic run. Shouyou didn’t seem to have followed him this far out.

He wondered belatedly how long he had ran for.

The sun was close to setting, and Kenma wrapped his arms around himself for warmth. The ripeness of summer was beginning to fade into the sour tasting autumn, the fool’s golden warmth fading fast and the chill seeping into his bones. 

Not for the first time that day, he wondered if he should go back home. 

Shaking his head, Kenma told himself he was being an idiot and headed further into the woods for shelter. Besides, his absence should have been noticed hours ago. His return would simply mean his demise, he thought as he jogged lightly, eager to gain more distance. 

_ “Kitten~” _

Kenma’s head snapped back, his footsteps stalling and nearly tripping over himself. Panic reared its ugly head, sending his unsteady heart into cardiac arrest. He stumbled once, twice, looking for the source of the voice, before taking off once more, diving into bushes and thorns, scratching his arms and leaving crimson streaks. 

Once more, his breath stuttered out of control, his footsteps turning wobbly and his movement sluggering. The under bushes he stumbled into led on into different directions, Kenma taking off at random, hearing footsteps and heavy pants behind him as he dived once more into the undergrowth. Luck must be on his side, as he spotted a circle of thorny plants hiding a small clearing. He dashed into the thorns, using his bloody hands to protect his eyes and not much else. 

He collapsed into the clearing, holding his breath. Kenma waited in silence, ears straining to pick up even the slightest of respirations, the smallest of movements.

Nothing. 

Nothing but the cicadas, a low thrum in his head. He has a feeling they mean something to him, something more important than his adrenaline scrambled mind can comprehend. 

Kenma released his lungs, breathing as fast and as quiet as he could manage, heading aching with the strain of listening so hard. But yet he heard nothing, not even his pursuer leaving. 

Did he….imagine the whole thing? 

Oh god, he thought to to himself with a tinge of gallows humor, he’s now hearing shit too. It’s as if being torn from everything he loved again and again wasn’t enough.

Just the paranoia. That’s what he repeated in his mind, calming his heartrate down with every moment that passed. You’re so on edge and thinking so much about  _ him  _ that you hallucinated  _ his  _ voice. 

Kenma brings his crimson hands up to his face for inspection, seeing all the cuts he gave himself. Not only his hands, but his arms and bare knees. He even felt some sting at the edges of his face. Way to go, he fucked up big time. 

Well, at the rate he’s going, he won’t live long enough for them to get infected. 

He might as well try to sleep. His heart is still stuttering unconformably with every sound the darkening forest makes and his bloody feets have given up on any more movement for today. 

Kenma closes his eyes, and dreamed of Kuro. 

~

_ Kuro opens his arms, smile wide and stretched across his face, as he tugged a ten year old Kenma into his arms.  _

_ “I got accepted into the Volleyball team!” He cheers, swing Kenma around before plopping the both of them down on Kenma’s bed. “Just you wait! When you get into Junior High, me and you will take over the world!” _

_ Kenma couldn’t resist the smile forming on his face, Kuro’s promises making him feel like he was invincible. _

_ Kuro’s laugh tasted like the starbursts they shared that day over laughs and shared dreams of the future. _

_ ~ _

“You want to leave?”

A gurgle. 

_ Bang _ . The head board hit the wall violently. 

“I won’t let you.”

A choke. 

_ Bang _ .

“You belong to me.”

“....please..”

_ Bang _ . 

“I gave so much to you and you want to end this like that?”

“.....i’m sorry….”

_ Bang _ . 

“Sorry huh, you ungrateful brat. I give you everything and  _ you want to leave me _ ?!?!”

A broken sob. 

_ Bang _ . 

“I should kill you for betraying me, for trying to leave.”

Another gurgle. 

Bang. 

“I love you so much. Why don’t you feel the same?” 

“.........”

Bang. A grunt.

“Kitten?”

“.........”

Silence. 

“....C’mon stop fooling around. Wake up already.”

“.........”

A shuffle. Hands smooth out against a pale throat dark with bruises. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god. What did I do? C’mon, please, I’m sorry it won’t happen again I just got too emotional. Please Kitten, I love you, wake up.”

“...........”

_ Rattle _ . Hands beat down on an unresponsive heart.

“K-Kit-Kenma. Kenma please wake up I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean too.”

“...........”

_ Thump _ .

“I’m sorry.” A sob. “I love you so much that I can’t even express it. I’m so sorry. I’m not mad anymore so please!”

A choked breath.

~

When Kenma woke up, colors flickering past his closed eyelids, he realized dimly that he slept for a long time. Peeling open his eyes, he let the midday sun burn into his retinas. The cuts seemed to have scabbed over, syrupy blood baked and crusted into his skin,  _ digging digging digging _ -

He shook his head, letting the words drip out from his ears like carnelian soaked snakes, slithering out and onto the grass beside him. 

_ Go home little boy _ , they whisper,  _ you can’t exist without him so why do you try? _

Kenma shook his head again. He was half-awake at most, if he just woke up a little more than the snakes would fade back into the dream realm and he could continue on. He still wanted to put as much distance as possible between him and that room, and he had already slept too long as it was. 

_ It doesn’t matter,  _ the snakes whisper together, winding themselves around Kenma’s throat,  _ The game is drawing to a close soon. _

_ (Cheeky grins and devious smiles and empty rooms and DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE I’M SORRY I CAN’T BE WITHOUT YOU PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME) _

_ He’s coming to get you _

_ (Catch me if you can ‘cuz I’m the gingerbread man/Doting smiles and restraining hands/wHEre aRE yOu kURo coMe HOme- _

_ Kuro~) _

“NO!” Kenma screamed ripping himself from the snakes’ hold. “I’m not going back, no no no no no no…”

_ Little boy _ , they say as they melt into the ground, molting their skin into a kaleidoscope of feathers,  _ did you forget the purpose of your run?  _

_ (Blond hair stained red and biting remarks and derisive comments and taunting smirks and too fast hearts and shy smiles and DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE ME) _

_ Did you forget the ending already? _

__ _  (Scared) _

_(where_                  _(I_

_Are_                                       _Love_

_you_                                                       _you_

_Kuro)_           _(HAVE YOU TRIED TURNING IT OFF_ _Kuro)_

_(why_         _AND BACK ON AGAIN)_          _(catch_

_are_                                         _Me_

_you_    _If_

_running)_        _can)_

_                                                                                 (Scarred) _

Kenma panted, staring vacantly at the mess of feathers where the snakes were. Did he just…hallucinate that?

He cursed, pressing his palm to his head in frustration. He had hallucinated before when ever he had a panic attack, but he hadn’t have had one in ages. Couldn’t exactly panic when there was nothing to panic about, in that small,  _ small  _ room. 

Right?

Chalking up the snakes to having been half asleep, he adjusted his clothes and was about to make his way through the tangle of thorns again before an ink-stained feather caught his eye. It was smaller than the rest of them, as well as a stark contrast to the rest of the feathers. Walking back, Kenma crouched and gently grabbed the feather. He observed the feather for a moment before coming to a realization.

_ A crow feather, huh _ ?

For some reason, the small obsidian plume reminded him of Shouyou and his bright smile. As well as their strange encounter.

Did he hallucinate him too?

Kenma pushed the thought to the back of his head, pocketing the small item as he once more made his way through the thorns.

~

He travelled through the woods with barely any rhythm or reason, stumbling along old animal tracks. Eventually, after hours with blistered feet and parched mouth, the woods opened up to the edge of a backyard. Glancing around, Kenma determined it was safe enough to creep past it. After a distance, he made his way onto a small street with a collection of small stores and no people. He almost headed to the nearest store when he realized that the blood was still caked along his face and arms. 

Okay Kenma, he thought to himself, find a public bathroom and wash himself off. He would be arrested in a second, and the cops were a BIG no no. 

Luck must have been on his side-for once in the past five, no ten, years. (He pushes away the thought about luck not being on his side for maybe his whole life). There was a bathroom on the rear side of the convenience store, so the store clerk wouldn’t see him and call the police. Bad news: it was already occupied. He shuffled his feet amongst the assortment of random trash- it was like a miniature junkyard back here- waiting for the light on the door to turn green. 

Bored, Kenma gazed around the back alley of the convenience store. Trash bag, an old chair, a few crates, some spoiled food, a stray cat. 

Nothing. 

He was muttering to himself a few curses he had overheard before, poking the top of the old wooden chair when the door finally opened. 

Kenma felt sick already. The man who stepped out radiated prideful disgust, looking down his nose in distaste at him. 

_ “What are you staring at?” _ He seemed to say. Wait, he actually did say that.

“Nothing,” Kenma squeaked, after a moment of realizing that  _ oh shit he really did say that _ .

“Than get out of the way, retard.” The man growled, making forward to shove at Kenma’s shoulders before the latter flinched out of the way. 

“What? Think i’m going to hurt you?” He taunted, making sudden movements just to watch Kenma flinch violently, laughing each time. 

Kenma’s breath grew shallower and shallower with each move, his blood roaring in his ears barely low enough to make out what the man was saying. 

“You’re acting like a scared cat, just like a little  _ kitten- _ ” The rest of those hateful words were lost.

So was Kenma. 

Red didn’t taint his vision. No, it was never  _ red _ ???? Why would you say that??? No, it was blue and green and purple and orange and pink and yellow and white and  _ black and all those  _ **_fucking SHADES_ ** !!!!!  _ blACk WAs gOOD, it protECTED HIM. ReD kEpt hIM SAfE!!! _

The man turned to leave and  _ we couldn’t have that now could we? _

The last thing he saw was his own hand reaching out against his will.

 

When Kenma’s vision cleared, his hands were slick with blood. 

“Oh my god,” He whispered. “Oh my god.” A glance down confirmed his guess.

At his feet laid the man who insulted him, his skull cracked open for the world to see. His eyes stared out blankly at Kenma, terror drawn in every crimson stained crevice of his face. 

In Kenma’s hands was a broken, stained chair. 

He shook and shook and  _ shook  _ but the man  _ continued  _ to stare at Kenma. “I’m sorry,” He whispered. “Oh god I’m sorry.” 

_ Kuro _ , he thought,  _ Kuro please come save me _ . 

But Kuro would never save him, since the Kuro he loves is gone, **GONE GONE GONE GONE** . 

Fear left his body, drifting out and residing somewhere else as something, something more  _ empty  _ taking its place. 

Distantly, he felt that this emptiness wasn’t as new as he thought it might be.

On autopilot, Kenma dropped the chair. At least the bathroom was now clear. The blonde drifted toward the bathroom, sliding the door shut behind him and made way to finally clean himself off. 

He scrubbed his skin raw, watching the last ten minutes drain down the sink. The sink came close to overfilling, before slowly sliding down into the dark drain. He spotted himself in the cracked mirror, all sharp bones and dark bruises. He almost didn’t recognize himself.

Huh. His shirt was stained. That sucks. He liked this shirt quite a bit. 

At least the stain was small. 

After finishing washing himself off, Kenma headed back out into the alley again, sparing a glance at the body once more. It would be a pain if anyone spotted it, all that screaming would give him a headache. 

Sighing, he hauled the man toward the dumpster. This would be a lot harder than he thought. 

With a lot of heavy maneuvering, he managed to get the man into the dumpster as well as the broken pieces of the chair. He knew that he should do some more forensic countermeasures, but he was tired and achy as it was. He filled water in an old, rust bucket instead, dumping water over the contents, hoping that it would wash away some evidence.

He sighed a bit when he saw that the man’s wallet had slipped out during the manhandling. Kenma picked it up, rifling through it for a bit of cash without a glance toward the ID or cards, pocketing it once he came across it and tossing the wallet casually in the trash. At least he got a few bucks out of the exchange. 

There was still no way that the employee at the store would let him in without calling the cops. Blue jackets are the last things he needs right now. He sighed once more at his blood splattered shirt and sweats. At least the sweatpants are a darker color, but he ran out of luck when it came to the shirt department. 

Staring at the expanse of the makeshift junkyard, he wondered dimly how long it would take him to find another weapon, and longer still on how to procure a clean jacket. 

~

Dressed in a clean and a tad oversized hoodie, Kenma tossed the broken broom haphazardly on the ground before making his way to the other side of the store. The broom wasn’t much, but breaking it did prove to have benefits. The squelching sounds he could have done without though. 

Making his way into the store, he snatched some chips, a premade sandwich, and a water. The cashier didn’t look at him twice as he rang up the items. Kenma had grabbed the payed for items and was two steps from leaving the store when a small meek voice in the back of his head asked him something. 

“Hey,” He said instead. The boy’s head snapped up, staring at him in obvious surprise. “Where’s the nearest payphone?” 

The boy (quite pretty, if he must say so himself) stared at him for a moment before holding up a finger and reaching down for something under the counter. Kenma has to fight the urge to flinch, barely managing it. The numbness must be wearing off. 

What a shame. He rather fancied the lack of anxiety and fear. 

The boy (why did he keep saying boy, they looked about the same age) had grabbed his phone and was now scrolling through it. Kenma didn’t say anything, but was secretly impressed with the technology. He didn’t even know that phones could be that flat! 

To be fair, he was missing years out in the world. Seven years, about. He thinks.

The beginnings of fear on how he didn’t even know the date curled up in his gut, but he tried to ignore it. He was  _ so  _ tired of being scared. 

He pushed aside his thoughts when a phone was shoved in his face. It was open to a website, one that showed the nearest payphone and its address. Good, he could ask around for that street.

Kenma nodded his thanks, turning to leave for real now, he caught in his peripheral a shy hand waving goodbye and a tired smile. 

His own smile curved on his lips, feeling foreign yet making his insides strange. 

~

The clarity the numbness has brought him was beginning to leave, the hollowness leaving and the usual anxiety and fear settling themselves down. For some reason, he couldn’t remember what brought about that case of numbness. Everytime he reached for it, all he received was static and high-pitched noise that made him quickly drop it. It wasn’t unusual though. Several nights weekly after the door to his ten by six room opens, static followed with aches already settled deep in his bones the next morning. He knows what happens ( _blood stains in carpet and_ _blood on his thighs and new hickeys and bruises and cuts and burns and scars and-)_ but he guesses his mind spares him the gory details. 

He had stumbled around for a good while, asking the newly arrived people walking where the street was. After a few points and directions, he moved onward. 

It’s strange, he thinks. There was nobody on the streets earlier, but now there’s always at least one person in sight at all times. 

Pushing that thought out of his head, he started to jog when he caught sight of the street sign that the payphone was on. Hurriedly shoving the rest of the chips in his plastic bag, he turned the corner and spotted the payphone.

His hands started shaking, nerves jittering as his heart started to beat out of sync. He was nervous, incredibly nervous. As he approached the payphone, his vision narrowed, and his steps wavered. 

This is my last step, Kenma assured himself. One more thing and then I’m done. 

With a loud breath, he dug out his remaining money and inserted it, and dialed a number he memorized years ago, distantly hearing the phone beginning to ring. 

…“Hello?”

Kenma let out a gasp he didn’t know he was holding, his entire body slacking as he listened to that familiar voice. This was the other person that could calm his anxiety, always bringing Kenma back from the brink of a storm. 

“Who is this?”

_ did you forget the purpose of your run?  _

He did, didn’t he. He forgot why he had ran in the first place.

But now he remembers. 

“...Kuro,” He breathed. 

There was a moment of silence. Then, “Kenma?!?!”

“Kenma, where are you? What happened?” Kuro calmed from his frenzy, voice turning gentle.

“Why did you run from me, Kitten?”

~

_ They were older, Kuroo would be graduating from high school soon with Kenma following in his footsteps for going to his old high school.  _

_ “I love you, Kenma,” _

_ He hummed, not really paying attention to Kuroo. He was approaching the boss fight and he needed to find the key to the room. Kuroo continued his ministrations of his hair, twirling the blonde locks between his fingers.  _

_ “You know,” He began, and Kenma froze, because that tone of voice only meant a couple of things, and none of them good. “I really liked your hair better before you dyed it.” _

_ It was an unspoken command. Dye your hair back to normal.  _

_ Kenma nodded, and Kuroo went back to playing with his hair.  _

_ Still, Kenma was wary for the rest of the night.  _

_ ~ _

_ They were young, Kenma was only nine when the first panic attack occurred. _

_ Not his, Kuroo’s.  _

_ He didn’t even know what triggered it. All he knew was that one moment they were hanging out in Kuroo’s room, and then Kuroo was running frantically around, locking all the doors and windows, a dresser shoved against the door and blinds pulled.  _

_ Kuroo manhandled Kenma then, hugging him from behind. He glared at the door, flinching at every noise his family made for the next hour before finally calming down.  _

_ If only that was an isolated incident, instead of the first of many.  _

_ It only got worse when the zip ties were added, Kuroo ever afraid of Kenma leaving him or being taken away by some unseen forces, Kenma ever afraid of Kuroo’s next move.  _

_ ~ _

_ They were older, but not that older. Kenma was still young, too young. _

_ “I love you, Kitten.” Kuroo mumbled, his nose tucked in the crook of Kenma’s neck. “Always and forever, love you.”  _

_He was lost, and Kuroo was scaring him, pressed too close, hands sliding under his shirt and kisses pressed along his neck and he was_ scared, scared, scared, scared, scared, scared, scared, scared, scared. _He didn’t know what Kuroo was doing, but it was strange and it scared him and_ ** _HE. JUST. WOULDN’T. STOP._**

_ Static overcame his vision when a hand slid into his shorts.  _

_ ~ _

_ This was the norm when Kenma began to hit puberty, older but barely.  _

_ Kuroo came home one day, blood stains all over his shirt under his jacket and on his shoes. He tossed the ruined shirt under his bed, his spare backpack sliding under too.  _

_ “Don’t worry Kenma,” Kuroo told him, hand sliding along his collarbones among the collections of marks that had gathered there. “That guy won’t bother you again.” _

_ He didn’t even know what Kuroo was talking about, but he nodded all the same. Obedience was rewarded, while all asking questions got him was punishments.  _

_ All thoughts of the bathtub were pushed out of his head as he repressed a shiver. He tries not to think about how  _ ‘cute’  _ Kuroo thought he looked afterwards, looking like a  _ ‘drowned kitten’  _ as shivers wracked his body. All there is now is static.  _

_ All there that is left now is the deceased.  _

_ ~  _

_ Kenma had barely graduated Junior high when everything was stopped.  _

_ Kuroo was supposed to be gone that day, off at a graduation party. Kenma tried to hide the relief of having an evening to himself, but he thinks Kuroo caught wind of it, for he got a strange look when he left. Which in itself was weird. Kenma had gotten better at masking his emotions.  _

_ Only show what he wants to see. Don’t imply anything except obedience.  _

_ It was a mantra he knew well, if he wanted to survive.  _

_ At this point, he wondered why he was still trying.  _

_ He was still playing his game and questioning on the risks of him killing himself vs what would happen if the attempt fell through and Kuroo found out, when said person burst through the door.  _

_ Kenma was startled so badly he almost dropped his console, staring blankly at Kuroo, who was standing in the doorway with a strange little half-smile playing around his mouth. _

_ “...Kuroo?” Kenma asked, a part of him that he thought was numbed was beginning to show signs of fear again. In all those years they spent together, he has never seen that particular expression before.  _

_ “C’mon, Kenma.” Kuroo answered instead, reaching a hand out.  _

_ This went from a little odd to downright strange, but Kenma complied, since he knew that this was definitely a Test, and one he could not afford to fail. _

_ Failure was never an option.  _

_ As he took Kuroo’s hand, another hand rose to his free one and gently pulled his game console from his grasp. He suppressed whatever ugly emotion that was starting to bubble up as Kuroo set the console down.  _

_ His hand was being pulled, Kuroo clearly wanting him to follow. So he did, because after all, he was just a puppet being pulled by his strings.  _

_ Kuroo led him through the empty house, and to the new car his parents bought him for his graduation, guiding him down gently into the passenger seat. All the while without saying a thing, his face set in stone.  _

_ Maybe Kuroo would finally kill him. He knows that Kuroo spent months debating it, hands lingering near his windpipe, or taking just a second or two longer than necessary when putting down the knife.  _

_ Kenma held his breath and hoped, but when Kuroo changed his mind he almost cried.  _

_ Once again, he hoped.  _

_ When they started to drive off, Kenma risked a glance in the backseat. He felt his hope die.  _

_ There were boxes in the back seat.  _

_ “Kuroo..?” He asked, half-terrified of speaking out, but when nothing but a side glance came, he continued. “Kuroo, what’s going on? Where are we going?”  _

_ Kuroo said nothing. Just reached over and patted his thigh, thumb sweeping over the inside.  _

_ Kenma felt like crying. But once again, he did nothing, just slid over and leaned his head on the window, wanting to watch the outside world for the last time.  _

_ He must have fallen asleep, for when he woke up there was a blanket draped over him and the scenery had vastly changed. The dead city with the malevolence had changed to a quiet countryside with nothing but Kenma’s thoughts to listen to. _

_ He hated it.  _

_ Kuroo still drove onto the unknown with an unflinching gaze, hand still resting on Kenma’s thigh. _

_ They pulled up onto an unseen driveway after an immeasurable amount of time, arriving in front of an isolated house hidden in the trees. There was no one around for miles. No one to hear him scream.  _

_ Huh, Kenma almost laughed to himself. Guess there’s no more need for gags.  _

_ “Welcome home, Kenma.” Kuroo said, moving his hand up and up and up and up- _

_ He looked up momentarily, staring blankly at the roof of the car. All that was left inside him was only dread.  _

Kill me _ , he thought.  _

_ ~ _

Kenma felt strange. Like some part of him that was missing was reunited with him. At the same time, he could feel jagged edges where parts of what made ‘Kenma’ broke off. The last unattached piece of him trembled and reached out with trembling claws. When he gave no resistance, the piece reached further, allowing itself to connect to his mouth to whisper its plea. 

“ _ Catch me if you can, ‘cuz I’m the gingerbread man _ .” He sang softly into the mic. Then he slammed the phone into the wall, dropping it without even a flinch. 

Of course. Of course. Why did he forget? Kuroo wasn’t dead. Kuro was though. His childhood friend, his protector and sole support. The boy who loved volleyball and his family and teasing his best friend. 

The boy he loved was dead. All Kenma had left was a stranger wearing Kuro’s skin. 

Kuro was never going to save him. Kuroo was going to kill him. 

He laughed. He kept laughing, taking shuddering breaths in between only for more hysterical laugher to leak out. He laughed until tears ran down his face.

Oh, the irony. 

He breathed deeply, trying to remember the whole reason he ran. He’s getting bits and pieces, but most of it is still gone. He wanted to run, right????

So why did he contact Kuroo? Furthermore, why did he need a payphone? He could have borrowed someone else's. Why didn’t he call the police, or his parents?

Who else is in control?

Or rather, what is their plan?

Kenma stood up from where he had fell (he fell?), dragging his feet in a specific direction. He knew where he had to go (how?), and it would probably take him less than an hour by foot. He had to beat Kuroo (what?), this would only work if he got there before him (when?).

He sat back, letting whatever this was take control. This same thing that took control at the phonebooth. Confusion settled under his skin, itching at him. Black dots danced in front of his eyes. Was this strange, trembling thing new?

Was he?

For that matter, who was he? He has a name, doesn’t he? He had it just a minute ago, and now it’s sliding out from his grasp. He jumped and jumped, and finally caught the edge of it, a male voice, distant and yet familiar, sending a bolt of fear each time is was spoken, repeating the name over and over and over again. 

_ Kenma Kenma Kenma Kenma Kenma Kenma Kenma Kenma Kenma Kenma- _

Kenma blocked it out, not willing to lose himself into that abyss again. 

He would watch and wait for awhile, before doing anything, conserving his strength. If it comes to it, he would stop it, at whatever cost. 

~   
Kenma took control of his body when the strange thing slinked to the back of his mind, curling up like a misbehaved dog. They had arrived in an old park, the playground horribly rusted and grass overgrown. It seemed familiar. 

_ Do you remember?  _

Did he?

-It was a festival, and their parents had planned a road trip to see it-

-The park had been bustling with kids, Kuro’s hand in his-

-”Now if you ever get lost or run off, come here and I will come get you”-

-Smiling faces and toys in hands-

-Wooden music box, adored and treasured-

-“ _ Catch me if you can ‘cuz I’m the Gingerbread man _ ”-

-“Happy Birthday, Kenma!”-

He groaned, pressing a hand to his aching head. His brain throbbed as the memory assaulted, having slid by the dog in the back of his mind like paper sliding under a door. 

“If I get lost, huh.” He said to himself, but the latter part of it interested him. _ Run off. _

He sat himself down on a park bench, staring at the ruined park. It seemed as if the place has never been touched since then, all alone in a bubble of time. 

Kenma still had ages until Kuroo should show up (he didn’t know how he knew it but he just did), so he brought out the plastic bag and picked at the remainder of his food. When he was done with that, he watched the fading sun set behind the trees, twilight settling on the far side of the sky. This would probably be the last time he saw something like this. A small part of him urged to run, get away from the park and get to safety, to knock on someone's door and beg to be taken in.

He was so scared, but yet he was waiting. He was waiting for someone to save him. 

Unbidden, Shouyou’s smiling face came to mind. 

His hand reached over to his back pocket, intending to stroke the crow feather, but he stopped when he felt the surface of the it. 

That wasn’t a feather.

Yanking it out, he stared blankly at the supposed-to-be feather.

“Oh god,” Kenma felt himself mouth. 

The feather was now a knife. A large, sharp-edged knife.  

Distantly, as if he was in a dream, he laughed. I see, he thought to himself. I see. 

He thinks he knows what the plan is now. There’s a hospital about two blocks from here, if he remembers correctly. 

Kenma froze when he heard the sound of  hurried footsteps. Jumping to his feet, he shoved the knife in his back pocket and had a few brief moments left to watch as a familiar form rounded the corner. 

Kuroo stepped onto the path at the same time the street lights flickered on, illuminating his face and casting parts of it into sharp shadows. He seemed almost untouched by recent events, but all their years spent together let him see the faint bags and chewed up nails. 

His heart warmed at the thought that Kuroo cared enough to be anxious. 

“Kenma,” Kuroo drawled, using his real name for once. “What brings you here?” 

He tilted his head, staring at the man who kidnapped him from his own home when he was only a child. The man who broke him to his will for the sake of ‘love’. Here they had come full circle, the diseased man and the scared boy. 

“Well, I rather think you know the answer to that.” Kenma replied.

Kuroo smirked, posture slouching. They both knew that more things were being said than what was actually being spoken.

Afterall, this was a Test. Maybe it was a Game too. 

“I don’t think I do, mind explaining?” He shifted, hip popping out slightly, and Kenma could tell, even though it was quite well hidden, that he was packing. 

Ah. So that's Kuroo’s plan. 

A smile crept up his face as his gaze traveled slowly up Kuroo’s torso, watching as he flinched when their eyes connected. He wondered, vaguely, what kind of expression was on his face to make him react like that. 

_ (“Smile for me, Kitten” Kuroo told him, frown embedded in his face. He reached up, hands poking Kenma’s cheeks up in an attempt to change that ever blank expression to something more friendly.  _

_ He tried, he really did. But he’s long forgotten how, and the only thing he could managed was a half-grimace. _

_ “Oh well,” Kuroo sighed, stroking his cheek. “I’ll make you happy, I swear. When I get off work tomorrow, I’ll buy you that new game that’s been on all the commercials lately. And I’ll even get you some apple pie. How does that sound?”   _

_ Kenma tried to grunge up any emotional response to that, but when he searched himself, all he could feel was emptiness.)  _

The memory returned to him, unasked but not unwanted. So that’s it. 

He grinned wider, just to watch Kuroo flinch. It was rather refreshing, having their roles reversed. “I wanted to test something. You?”

Kuroo frowned, his body posture turning slightly more aggressive. “I lost something of mine.” 

After a moment of tense silence, he relaxed, smirk sliding back onto his face. “That was pretty clever of you, I must admit. I wasn’t expecting the nail clipper.”

Oh. That.

_ (His breath was coming out funny as emotions surged in him for the first time in years. His hands fumbled with the nail clipper, him attempting to position it just right. Kuroo had barely left, but he needed all the time he could for this to succeed.  _

_ Kenma was so close to just crying, as the clipper clipped at the wire with no give, no resistance, and- _

_ The wires snapped.) _

And

_ (The best part of this was that he didn’t even steal the nail clipper. He just stopped chewing his nails a week before the plan was supposed to commence, and then the night before he ‘accidently’ scratched Kuroo. He got a harsh scolding and the nail clippers set out on his bedside, Kuroo too tired that night to take care of Kenma’s hygiene needs like he usually does.) _

Kenma was the one who cocked his hip this time, staring at Kuroo full-on. His eyes seemed to unnerve him, as Kuroo shivered at the eye contact. Maybe he was finally seeing the insanity, not just seeing what he wants to see. 

“Thanks,” He said instead. “I spent a long time planning on how to get ahold of it.”

Kuroo stopped. He stared. His eyes glazed over, and his hands shook, barely holding back his rage. “You..what?” 

“Spent a long time planning,” He repeated, enjoying the other’s outrage. He even pretended to inspect his nails. The feelings washed over him, setting his nerves aflame. He relished every moment of it. 

Kenma casually strolled back to the park bench, never quite turning his back to him. He swayed his hips, humming a song he couldn’t quite remember under his breath. It had a child’s piano in it, he was sure of it. 

He felt for the first time like he was a predator preying for its meal, every move calculated and determined with instinct. 

“I wanted to test something, and I’m glad I did.” He turned around on his heel, a surly deranged smile making its way onto his face. “After all, this has been.  _ SO. MUCH.  _ **_FUN_ ** _! _ ”

Kuroo flinched again, staring at Kenma like he was a stranger. But why would he do that??? After all, the two of them know each other  _ oh so very well.  _

Kenma strode backwards, letting the back of his knees hit the park bench. He flopped down gracefully, eyes never breaking away from Kuroo’s. 

“I'm not done yet, though.” He hummed, kicking his legs. The song was reverberating around his head. Bits and pieces of the lyrics were making themselves heard, the words bouncing off the walls of his heads, colliding together to mix and mash up sentences. 

“One last thing to do,” He smiled once more, a sincere one, staring up at Kuroo. 

He pulled out the knife faster than Kuroo could reach his gun. He stopped, staring at Kenma once more in astonishment, his hovering hand dropping to his side. “What..?” He breathe, eyes almost  _ enraptured  _ by the blade. 

“Surprised?” He asked him, waving the blade back and forth slightly, almost amused by the way Kuroo was behaving. “Don’t be, I had this for a good while.” 

Well, maybe. The knowledge on how the crow feather actually ended up being a knife is still a bit vague to him.

“You see,” He began. “I came up with this plan quite a long time ago. I wanted to test your response to something of this scale that I did, and here we are. I guess I got my answer.” 

He settle his free hand on the inside of his thigh, and counts his fingers. On, two-

“Come home, Kitten.” Kuroo interrupts, eyes imploring. He stretches out his hand to Kenma. “Let’s go home. I’m not even that mad. You were just curious, right? I’ll loosen the leash a bit, I swear. So let’s just go home, okay?” He finished, almost desperately.

Kenma paused. Loosening the leash? That was no small compromise on Kuroo’s part. He might even get outdoor privileges. That sounds nice...

No, he shook his head, watching Kuroo’s face fall. He wouldn’t settle for a compromise, he had to finish this either his way or Kuroo’s way. One-

“Why?” Kuroo asked, his voice small and weak. He looked anguished, lines drawn in his face and hands trembling. Like this, Kenma could almost convince himself that Kuroo loved him. 

Instead: “Not so nice now, to have your choices made by someone else, huh?”

Kuroo flinched, looking as if his entire being was shaken by that simple statement.

He probably assumed Kenma was going to kill him, which was stupid. If he wanted to kill him, he would have poisoned his food, or smashed his face in while he sleeping, or trapped a pillow over his head, or-

He cut himself off. It wasn't the point. The point was that Kenma could have killed him thirty times over with half the drama. 

Though the drama does add a bit of suspense to it, doesn’t it? He always did love a good suspense film.

He reached down and with his fingers he counted, One, two, three. He let his pinkie hover there, tracing a line from his hip bone. From the way Kuroo was reacting, he didn’t think he needed to do it all the way. Only a couple of millimeters would suffice. 

But, well. You never know.

Kenma smiled at Kuroo one last time, gazing directly into his eyes and saying all the things he could never quite manage to get out, like  _ I hate you, I despise you for what you did to me, for what you made me into, for breaking me into millions of pieces just for the joy of gluing the pieces poorly back together. _

_ And most especially for- _

Well, he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet. Maybe in a couple of months they could talk about it, but-

He wanted desperately to close his eyes, but he didn’t dare. He wanted, no  _ needed _ , to watch Kuroo be torn apart, to drown in his own dread for once, to be in his shoes for a bit. 

He wanted him to suffer like he did. 

With one swift move, he-

             sliced

                         his

                                thigh

                                          open

Kuroo’s terrified eyes  met his, and then 

Blood. 

So much blood. 

He fell. 

_ It hurts. _

Hands griped him, and slid him onto his back. 

Pain. So much pain. When would the shock hit?

No. Shock bad. Stay conscious. 

Hands on his thigh, shouting. Crying. Who’s crying? Not him. 

Kuroo came into view. Oh. 

He was crying. 

Kemna has never seen anything more beautiful.

He shakily raised his hand, cupping Kuroo’s cheek. “Don’t cry. I’ll be alright.” 

Maybe the words came out wrong, because Kuroo only sobbed harder. The hands left his thigh,  but Kuroo only pulled off his shirt, doing something with it to his thigh. Was he doing a tourniquet?

Smart. Pride rushed through him. 

Hands left his thigh once more, but tucked under his knees instead. One cradled his shoulders. 

Intense vertigo. His head spun. Places flashed across his eyes, pain jolting up his thigh with every step.

“You’ll be okay Kenma.” Kuroo muttered, his voice thick. “We’re almost there. The-the doctors are gonna fix you right up, okay?” 

It was going dark. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, a oh so familiar song and dance, and yet so new and different. His hands were also shaking, but this too was new.

He wasn’t alone anymore. 

“I ran,” He mumbled. 

“Huh, what did you say?” 

“I ran,” He repeated, louder. “I ran and I hid but yet you still came after me. You found me.”

Kenma was beginning to drift, his hearing going away. No more leaking words, no more burning. They were getting close to the hospital, only about three hundred feet left. 

A weak chuckle. “Of course I did. I love you.”

He closed his eyes, a faint smile making its way onto his face. It wasn’t long now. 

“‘M love you too.” He whispered, and then

everything 

went 

dark. 

~

This was a dream, but not. Kenma was sitting on the back doorstep of that small cabin, watching, waiting. 

He didn’t wait long. 

The wind ruffled his hair, blowing it across his face, obscuring his vision for a half of a second. He tucked it behind his ear, and when he glanced up he saw the untamed woods had changed. Instead of the dark woods that had served as a warning, a large yard awaited him, surrounded by an old wooden fence. Flowers bloomed off to the side, cicadas chirping in the distance.

The air changed next to him as something dashed by him from the open sliding door behind him. When he blinked, a dog was playing in the yard. The dog ran around the yard for a few moments, before racing back to Kenma. It panted excitedly, nuzzling Kenma’s hands before plopping down next to him, resting its head on his knees. 

Intrigued, Kenma tugged at the dog collar until a name tag could be seen. 

The name couldn’t be read, all blurred together and letters sliding in and out of view and jumping over each other. 

For some reason, it reminded him of the boy at the cashier on that last, incessant day. The one without a name, but yet still plays an important role in the end. Without him, Kuroo would have never found him. 

As if the mere thought of his name summoned him, footsteps sounded behind him. Hands settled on his shoulders as a kiss was dropped on his temple. 

Sneakers splattered red settled down next to him on the steps, Kuroo draping an arm around him. 

“Sorry for the delay,” He grinned sheepishly. There was a streak of red under his collar. 

Kenma smiled, tugging his hand. “It’s fine, just me and the dog.” Leaning up, he pecked Kuroo on the mouth, tongue darting out to taste him. He tasted like iron. 

Just as they were getting into it, a thin cry pierced the air. Kuroo pulled back, grinning at him. 

“Guess he wants his mama, huh?” Kenma scowled, elbowing Kuroo harshly. He laughed, as Kenma made to get up.  

Kuroo got up with him, shooing the dog back out into the yard. “Sorry for waking him up, this one was definitely a screamer.” 

“It’s fine,” Kenma threw over his shoulder as he stepped into the house. It was the same, but yet different. Toys lied scattered across the floor, formula spilled on the counter. 

Kenma stepped with certainty into the main bedroom, staring at his old door with much trepidation. But he knew it, deep in his heart, that this is where he needed to look. With quick steps, he hovered on the doorway. 

His old room was no longer his. It was painted a bright yellow, little suns and gardens painted with much care on the walls. The ever present coldness vanished, and instead there was a comfortable warmth. There was no longer any bed, just a dresser, a rocking chair, and a wooden crib. 

He stared at the crib for a moment, before taking a careful step inside. The crying tapered off, and he took another careful step. 

Kenma peeked over the crib, and stared at the baby. The baby stared back. 

He felt his heart balloon with so much affection he could barely stand it. With trembling hands, he reached down and slid his hands under them. 

With so much care and tenderness, he held the baby to his chest. He was shaking, he realized, tears streaming down as he stared at this  _ perfect _ , wonderful thing.  

Brown eyes stared back, and a little sound came out that sounded just a bit like a familiar laugh. 

A glance up confirmed that. Painted above the crib with bright orange block letters, was the name ‘Shouyou’. 

Kenma let out a sob, staring at the baby, no,  _ Shouyou  _ as sun washed over his face. 

Sun?

He whipped his head to the side, and saw a sun through a new window. It was cracked open, just a bit to let fresh air in, and the sun’s evening rays were beginning to peek through out. 

In silence, he watched the sun. 

~

Awareness crawled back into him slowly, sounds, smells, taste. All of them had joined him by the time he opened his eyes. Pain assaulted his thigh, but he held in the yelp with all the strength he had.

He was in a hospital, that was certain. ICU ward too, it looks like. The faint beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the quiet room. 

Kenma breathed out his nose, the oxygen mask digging into his skin. Why would he need the mask for a bleed?

A peek over at the IV stand confirmed his suspicions. A saline drip and something else he didn’t know but could tell was definitely antibiotics. Guess crow feather turned knives aren't the best for cleanliness when attempting suicide. The heart monitor showed him he still had a bit of a fever. 

He tried to move his left hand to pull the mask up to relieve the digging, but it wouldn’t budge. Kenma glanced to what was stopping his hand and-

Kuroo. 

Kuroo was sitting next to him, head lying near Kenma’s waist on the bed. His eyelids fluttered (purple, such dark bags) as he dreamed, hand clasped tightly with Kenma’s. He looked as if he had been praying. 

Kenma couldn’t help it. The smile on his face grew more and more, tilting at the edges as he stared at him. He was so sure he would look mad, smiling non-stop at an unconscious man. 

But why wouldn’t he smile when everything he has been planning for was just handed to him on a silver plate. He smiled harder. 

The last cracked piece had joined his mind, had merged in his sleep, and with it all his memories returned. The payphone wasn’t a stupid miscalculation. The lack of money wasn’t an problem. The lack of knowledge on the bus systems wasn’t an error. 

Every single detail was planned out so even when his full self once again fractured, he would end up on the right path. 

After all, he loved Kuro. Kuro was dead, long and gone, but this man, this man wearing his skin, showed that maybe some of Kuro was in there after all. 

Well, it doesn’t much matter. It was just a Test when all is said and done. He was simply curious. 

After all, he  _ loves  _ this Kuroo, much much more than he loved Kuro. He doesn’t need his boyhood innocence or his passion for anything else but him. 

All Kenma needs is this dark twisted love. And he would do this over and over and over again just for the sake of watching Kuroo’s anguished face. Just for the proof that he loved Kenma enough to risk his life by bringing him to the hospital, when it was only a matter of time before they found him on the missing persons list and connected the dots. 

“I would do anything,” He murmured, staring at the sleeping Kuroo. “For you to love me like I love you.” 

Kenma smiled sweetly. 

“But I simply cannot bear the thought of you leaving me, so…” He whispered the last sentence. 

“If you ever be that distant with me again, I’ll kill you.” 

  
  


_ “Betrayal is too kind a word to describe a situation in which a father says he loves his daughter but claims he must teach her about the horrors of the world in order to make her a stronger person; a situation in which he watches or participates in rituals that make her feel like she is going to die. She experiences pain that is so intense that she cannot think; her head spins so fast she can't remember who she is or how she got there. _

_ All she knows is pain. All she feels is desperation. She tries to cry out for help, but soon learns that no one will listen. No matter how loud she cries, she can't stop or change what is happening. No matter what she does, the pain will not stop. Her father orders her to be tortured and tells her it is for her own good. He tells her that she needs the discipline, or that she has asked for it by her misbehavior. Betrayal is too simple a word to describe the overwhelming pain, the overwhelming loneliness and isolation this child experiences. _

_ As if the abuse during the rituals were not enough, this child experiences similar abuse at home on a daily basis. When she tries to talk about her pain, she is told that she must be crazy. "Nothing bad has happened to you;' her family tells her. Each day she begins to feel more and more like she doesn't know what is real. She stops trusting her own feelings because no one else acknowledges them or hears her agony. Soon the pain becomes too great. She learns not to feel at all. This strong, lonely, desperate child learns to give up the senses that make all people feel alive. She begins to feel dead. _

_ She wishes she were dead. For her there is no way out. She soon learns there is no hope. _

_ As she grows older she gets stronger. She learns to do what she is told with the utmost compliance. She forgets everything she has ever wanted. The pain still lurks, but it's easier to pretend it's not there than to acknowledge the horrors she has buried in the deepest parts of her mind. Her relationships are overwhelmed by the power of her emotions. She reaches out for help, but never seems to find what she is looking for The pain gets worse. The loneliness sets in. When the feelings return, she is overcome with panic, pain, and desperation. _

_ She is convinced she is going to die. Yet, when she looks around her she sees nothing that should make her feel so bad. Deep inside she knows something is very, very wrong, but she doesn't remember anything. She thinks, "Maybe I am crazy.”  _

_ ―  _ [ **_Margaret Smith_ ** ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/28247.Margaret_Smith) _ ,  _ [ **_Ritual Abuse: What it is, Why it Happens, and How to Help_ ** ](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/662452)

**Author's Note:**

> I warned you.  
> There was a lot of subtext I hope you caught on. Who is Shouyou? What role does he play? Was he real or just a hallucination? What about the pretty cashier? What role did he play? What exactly was Kenma trying to do? What did his dream mean? Why were Shouyou and the cashier in his dream? What did that mean for them? Did Kuroo really love Kenma, or did he just believe he was? What happens next?  
> It's food for thought, anyhow.  
> I'll give more explanations in the comments if anyone is Interested. Hope it was good!


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